


we've got some catching up to do

by ohcinnamon



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, and basically cheating by using prompts but oh well, have this, i'm making myself write more oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 00:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcinnamon/pseuds/ohcinnamon
Summary: Dallon groans and flips onto his stomach, pressing his pillow over his head. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll smother himself to death.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brobecking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brobecking/gifts).



_Your OTP are sharing a dorm in college and have different schedules. Person A has been getting good rest, despite their early classes. Person B just wants to stop waking up to Beyonce alarms at 7 A.M._

* * *

 

_“Remember those walls I built? Well, baby, they’re tumbling down…”_

Dallon groans and flips onto his stomach, pressing his pillow over his head. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll smother himself to death.

Not to say that he doesn’t love Beyonce, because he does, or that his roommate doesn’t have a good voice, because _he does_ , but he’s gotten approximately 2.5 hours of sleep, and Brendon is obnoxiously loud in the morning. Seriously, how can someone be that energetic after waking up, especially without caffeine?

Brendon must have heard him, because suddenly the music of the alarm has cut off, and Dallon lets out a content sigh. It’s not perfect, as he can still hear Brendon getting ready in the background, but this is a level he can sleep through.

“Sorry, Dal. I keep forgetting that seven is like the middle of the night for your sleep schedule,” Brendon apologizes quietly. “What time did you get back last night?”

  
_Well, there goes my idea of going straight back to sleep_ , Dallon thinks, and he sits up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes. He knows that once Brendon starts a conversation, he won’t stop talking, and as endearing as that may be, he won’t be able to sleep until Brendon leaves for his classes.

“I got home at two,” Dallon sighs, the end trailing into a yawn. Being an Uber isn’t exactly the most fun job in the world, but it makes him money, and that money funnels straight into his tuition so that he can keep being woken up by Brendon and Beyonce at seven a.m.

“Yikes, that sucks,” Brendon remarks, pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it across the room. It lands in Dallon’s lap, and…

“Brendon, this is my shirt,” Dallon says, squinting through his bleary vision to see the print better. Sure enough, it’s his Foxy Shazam shirt, soft and gray and...smelling like Brendon.

“It is?” Brendon asks, sweater halfway on. He turns around with one arm through the sleeve and one arm tangled in the rest of it, and it’s enough to make Dallon smile. “Sorry, I must not have noticed.”

“That’s also my shirt,” Dallon laughs softly, pointing at the sweater Brendon’s having trouble with. He knows, because large white lettering on the chest screams _I AM A SCIENTIST_ at him.

Brendon looks down, and for the first time seems to realize what he’s wearing. He starts to take it off, untangling his caught arm. “I’m sorry dude, I must not be seeing things right today, here, you can -”

“Nah, keep it,” Dallon finds himself saying, his voice softening in a way that it only does around Brendon. The sweater looks better on him anyway, and it makes his chest fill to see Brendon wearing his clothes. “I don’t mind. Besides, maybe people will take you seriously now.”

Brendon pulls the shirt over his head once more, flipping Dallon off in the process. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not like being a music major is that bad.”

“Says the one wearing a science sweater,” Dallon retorts, smiling smugly. “Are you finally starting to see that biology is the superior major here?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Brendon fires right back, pulling on a pair of ratty black Converse that have definitely seen better days - actually, probably better _years._ “What if I’m only wearing it so that you can’t?”

“That’s pretty domestic,” Dallon remarks, running a hand through his hair to hopefully tame it at least a little bit. “Are we married now?”

“You know it,” Brendon winks at that, plopping down next to him on the bed. “Except my terrible husband is never home when I’m home, so I never get to see him.”

Even in the midst of their banter, Dallon knows there’s something real to it. Between Brendon’s early classes and Dallon’s crazy work schedule, they never have time to hang out anymore. Which is a shame, because in the short amounts of time they _do_ get to spend together, Dallon’s pretty sure he’s never flirted with anyone more in his entire life. There’s something between them, he knows it, but they never have time to do anything other than dance around the subject.

“I know,” Dallon sighs, feeling the happiness in his chest suddenly deflate. “I wish I could spend more time with you, I really do, but I…”

“Have to work,” Brendon finishes, smiling up at him softly. “I know. College doesn’t pay for itself.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” Dallon mumbles, lowering his gaze to his lap. Brendon is supposed to be his best friend - and if he was ever actually fucking _home_ , maybe more than that - but their drastically different schedules seem intent on keeping them apart.

“Hey,” Brendon soothes, bumping Dallon’s shoulder with his own. “Dal. Look at me.”

When he looks up, Brendon’s gazing at him with an unusually soft expression, and damn, what Dallon wouldn’t give to kiss that smile off his face and make him late to his classes.

“I’m so -”

“Stop apologizing,” Brendon says, reaching out to smooth Dallon’s sleep-messy hair back into place. “Really, it’s okay. We’ll just have to work around it or something so that I can spend more time with you.”

“I’d like that,” Dallon breathes, more awake than ever now that the tension between them is practically buzzing with unspoken energy. His breath catches in his throat when Brendon moves his hand from his hair to his cheek, knowing that he’ll be blushing in an instant.

“Good,” Brendon murmurs, a smile curling the ends of his lips upward. “By the way, feel free to kiss me anytime, now.”

That makes him laugh in spite of himself, and he’s still smiling as he leans down to catch Brendon’s lips with his own, the adrenaline pumping through his body eliminating all thoughts of sleep from his brain. It might be the actual worst possible timing, but it makes something in his chest soar nonetheless. _Finally._

“Knew it,” Dallon says as he pulls away, reaching out to intertwine Brendon’s fingers with his own. “You only wake me up this early to tease me.”

“You might be right about that,” Brendon smirks, brown eyes full of warmth. “It didn’t seem to be working until now.”

“Trust me, it worked,” Dallon whispers, pulling Brendon into an embrace and relaxing against him. “You just never noticed.”

Brendon sighs, moving to look up at him, then pulls him into another kiss. This one is short and chaste, but it still makes Dallon’s heart flutter. “As much as I’d love to sit here and waste the day with you, I have to go to class, and you have to sleep.”

“Then we can finish this when you get home.” Dallon grins, bumping their noses together. “Uber basically lets me make my own hours. I’m sure one night off won’t be the end of the world.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” Brendon breathes, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek briefly before pulling himself away completely with what looks like extreme effort. “Okay, I really have to go now, or I’ll be late.”

Dallon sits back, watching with amusement as Brendon hastily scrambles to find all of his things in the trainwreck he calls his half of the dorm room. With his shoes untied and backpack half unzipped, he moves to leave, but stops himself at the door. He turns around, knob still clutched in his hand, and sends Dallon a smile so bright he might actually go blind.

“Oh, and Dallon?” Brendon grins, holding the door open with one hand. “I wear your clothes a lot. It’s the closest thing to being around you that I get lately.”

“You won’t need to, soon.” Dallon feels an effortless smile spreading across his face, and he’d be surprised if he wasn’t glowing. “Although maybe you should. You look better in them than I do.”

“Liar,” Brendon smirks, shifting his weight so that he’s leaning against the doorframe. The sweater moves to hang low on his hips, and how soft he looks makes Dallon want to hug him for at least an hour. Or until he falls back asleep, maybe. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


End file.
